Girls on a Mission
by AKay1297
Summary: Queen Mary of Scotland and her ladies in waiting enter the French court each seeking something, only to find none of the things they had anticipated. But danger lurks around the court at every turn, from a plot to kill Mary and outright war with England to pagans in the woods and a ghost. Mary/Francis, Lola/Bash, Aylee/Simon, Kenna/Henry, Greer/Leith
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I am literally obsessed with Reign. My entire family sits down on Thursday night and no one is allowed to talk until the show is over. There are so many couples that I want to see in the show, I couldn't choose just one pair to write a fic on. So I made one with all of them! I hope you guys enjoy the political and royalty parts too, cause I actually think those are super interesting. Anyways, read, review, and enjoy!**

* * *

**Prologue**

"May I introduce, Mary Queen of Scots." There was a flourish of trumpets and Mary and her ladies stepped into the rich court. Behind her, Mary could sense Kenna, Greer, Ayley, and Lola fidgeting in nervousness. It had been so long since they'd been in court together. The last time they'd been there, they'd been running around with wooden swords trying to fight the prince and beta him at his own manly game. Well, things had changed. Now they were all grown up, in lavish dresses and fancy jewels, and they couldn't run around the castle like they were children any more.

"This place seems so big now," Lola whispered from behind Mary. It didn't seem like that would make sense, seeing as they were so much smaller the last time they were there, so the court should seem proportionally smaller now, but that wasn't how it was. It probably came from the fact that Mary and her ladies had been split between their houses in Scotland and the nunnery she'd been living at for the past ten years.

"Lady Greer, Lady Kenna, Lady Ayley, and Lady Lola, welcome to the Royal Palace of France." The trumpets sounded again. Mary and her ladies were beckoned forward, and stood at the end of a red carpet outside the palace. On the opposite end stood the Royals of France. The Queen, King Henry, the King's official mistress Diane, and the two princes, Francis the Crown Prince and Sebastian, the bastard. They stood still for a few moments, before Francis stepped forward and made his way down the carpet to stand in front of the ladies. He smiled pleasantly at them.

"Welcome ladies, your Highness." He shifted his gaze to Mary's beautiful face. It was a face he hadn't seen in years, and it was definitely all grown up now. Dark waves framed that lovely face, those deep brown eyes and full soft-looking lips. Time seemed to stop. She was the only thing he could see. She was… amazing, in a word. So beautiful.

"Oh, please," she said, sounding somewhat breathless. "Call me Mary."

"Francis." He took the hand she held out and bent to place a kiss on it. It was a soft as he'd expect for a lady like her. "Welcome to France."

* * *

"He is so cute, Mary!" Kenna and the ladies giggled as they stepped into Mary's chambers later that night.

"Maybe he is, but that's not why we're engaged." Mary shook her head as they giggled even more. "I'm here to earn respect for both myself and Scotland. And yes, maybe to marry the prince, but it won't be a marriage of love. I must go into this understanding that."

"All I want is an adventure," Ayley said, grinning like the carefree-spirit she was. "Something exciting and interesting, something to take me out of the farms in Scotland."

"And maybe a man to go with it?" Lola grinned sassily at her friend. "I'm sure you wouldn't be opposed to that."

"Maybe," Ayley shrugged. "But it's easy for you to say. You have a man courting you."

Lola grinned. "Yeah, but I still need a best friend."

"Awwww, Lola, you have us." Kenna slung an arm around her shoulder.

"Yeah, but you will get older and get married and have your own families. And I still plan on returning to Scotland. Or maybe I'll stay here. I'm not sure. But whatever I do, I won't always have you four. I need to make some friends of my own." Lola shook her head. "I need something permanent."

"I just want a man." Greer raised her hands with a smile. "Just someone to take home for my family."

"Greer, you're beautiful, you'll find someone," Mary reassured her with a soft smile.

"Thanks, Mary." While the other ladies gushed over their wishes for their stay in France, Kenna turned away. She couldn't tell anyone what she wanted out of the stay: power. She wanted to command respect and attention. But she feared her friends wouldn't understand her desire for notoriety. And why should they? Mary already had it, and none of the others wanted it. She felt greedy, but she couldn't help it. She craved power.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So, I really have no good story with this chapter, other than it took me forever and was a complete bitch to write. As always, read, review, and enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter One**

"Nostradamus!" The Queen's voice rang down the corridor, stopping the man in his brisk walk down the hallway. She glanced around nervously, hurrying to his side. "A word, please? In private." He glanced around, ensuring the coast was clear, before nodding and allowing himself to be led into a room off the side of the corridor. The door slammed shut.

"What can I do for you, your Highness?" He looked at the queen carefully, gauging her reaction.

"Oh, please," she scoffed. "You know what this is about. Prior to today, I have only called upon you and your gift for advice in court, but today I must ask you for a favor much less professional."

"What is it you ask of me?"

"I believe you already know. It is a great gift you have; and now I have to ask you to look at the future of Queen Mary here in court. What does her presence here hold for the fate of my son?"

Nostradamus watched the Queen carefully. After a moment, he nodded slowly. "I cannot tell you anything now, but if I may, I will see if I may discover anything of the fortune of young Francis. At present, I must leave you. A servant girl is ill, with what we are not certain. I leave you until tomorrow, my Queen."

The Queen watched as he gave a small nod and strode out of the room. Nostradamus was truly blessed with a gift. His visions of the future had proved accurate in court so far, and she now had a need to ask his services for another, more personal reason. Mary's presence in the French court gave her chills. Not for her own safety, but for the safety of her child.

The only small favor she had was the reluctance of her husband to set a date for Francis's wedding to Mary. Without a solid alliance to France, Mary's stay was purely on the good grace of the King. And the King was fickle. Maybe she could find some way to turn King Henry against Mary, convince him she was hurting France with her engagement to Francis and her stay in court. And that is disregarding her four ladies that traveled with her. That Lady Kenna was… no good.

None of them should be allowed in France. And Queen Catherine de Medici of France was going to make sure none of them could stay.

* * *

"The English are on our shores," Mary argued to the King. He was not feeling kind towards her, as she had entered the room uninvited while he and Francis were considering the how to best train the new soldiers. "We need but eight companies, your Highness."

"We have no men to spare," King Henry shook his head. "I trust our alliance, but I have no companies I may send to Scotland to defend your country. But I hope you resolve your problem, Mary."

"What do you propose I do?" Mary asked angrily, rounding the table, pushing past Francis's outstretched arm to stand in front of King Henry.

"Train the shepherds?" Francis narrowed his eyes at his father's glib and sarcastic response.

"And have them all die on the battlefield?" Mary shook her head. "We need real troops, sir. Men who are trained in combat and can stand a chance against the English. Might I add that if Scotland falls, you are short an ally. Scotland may not be much, but if my country falls to England, they come after France next."

She turned away and swept out of the room. Francis watched the gently sway of her skirts as she strode out in annoyance. He shook his head as he turned back to his father. "Father, we can afford to send eight companies to Scotland."

"Can we? Mary said it herself, her men would be slaughtered. Why should we send ours to do the same?"

"Because that is what an alliance is for! A stronger country may protect a weaker on in a time of need. If France were ever to fall on hard times and you were to go to Scotland, you would expect help. But you are not giving her that courtesy." Francis shook his head.

"There is a difference, my son." King Henry dropped the silver pawn that went with Francis's chess set he'd been holding. "France is stronger than Scotland. Were we ever in trouble, we would call upon another, stronger ally. We do not need Scotland."

"So, what? You plan on keeping Mary here on a tentative alliance you never plan to use? You cannot leave her hanging that way, father!" Francis rounded the table, emboldened himself, and stood tall in front of the King.

"You'd rather have our men die in battle with the English for Scotland than have Mary remain here under the impression she will one day marry you? The way things are, no one gets hurt."

"Scotland gets hurt. Mary gets hurt. You lose an ally and you look terrible to the rest of Europe. And believe me, I know what it is like to have an entire continent believe I'm a weak, feeble man who cannot handle my country's crown. It is not a burden you would wish to bear." Francis looked into his father's eyes. "You may want to rethink your position on our relationship with Scotland." He turned on his heel and made his way to the door.

"France's relationship with Scotland or yours with Mary?" The question stopped Francis in his tracks.

"Are they not one and the same?"

* * *

Sebastian moved through the corridor as silently as he could, sneaking into his mother's chambers. His mother, as the King's official mistress, had a right to her own personal chambers. She had been Henry's mistress for so long that she had gotten stone tiles in the floors with a golden "D" intwined with an "H", symbolizing the love Diane and Henry shared. But there was a reason Diane, the woman Henry loved more than Catherine, was not his queen.

Diane had… unsavory ties that Henry had decided were better left away from French court business. But he could not bear to let her go, so he made her his official mistress. And the ties Diane held had been passed down to Bash by blood when she had given birth to him nearly twenty three years before.

"Ah, my son," Diane said warmly, smiling as Bash made his way into her chambers.

"Mother." Diane's smile did not fade despite Bash's not-so-warm tone. "I need to know something."

"What is it?" His mother, for all the things she was, was always warm, loving, and open. She may be cutthroat when it came to Catherine and Henry's other mistresses, but she had never been anything but loving and protective of Bash. And that love might just save his life some day.

"It's about the woods."

"Sebastian, you know I cannot reveal all the secrets of my past to you. It is for your own protection." She stood up and held her arms out to bring Bash in to sit back down next to her on the bed. "I do not want you hurt, my son."

"Mother, I cannot protect the court if I do not know everything. That's my job, isn't it? That is what I took over as after you came here. It was you and then my uncle and now me. It is my job to keep the pagans from entering here. And I cannot do that if I do not know why it is I must do it. You must tell me about your history before you came here."

Diane studied her son, such a strong-willed boy. He'd grown up in the castle, the bastard son of the King, given none of the luxuries that had been afforded to Francis. And he grew up learning the ways of his mother's people, so he could one day take his uncle's place in their family legacy. Bash's life had never been easy. And yet he'd grown up loving Francis like he was his true brother, not only half, and living with his whole being, experiencing as if he had nothing to tie him down. As if he had no melancholy inside of him.

The truth was, he had more reason to be melancholy than anyone else in court. And for this, she would tell him what he needed to know. For his strength, she would allow him to learn everything about her past. He would discover the reason he was not in Francis's place, the reason he was chosen by his family to protect, and the woman his mother truly was. She only hoped his love was strong enough to understand her past and the reason she did what she had to do.

* * *

"Clarissa?" Mary looked at he young prince, Charles, and narrowed her eyes in confusion. "And what do you know about this Clarissa?"

"She likes to play games," he said quietly. "Sometimes she tells me things if we play a game she likes."

"What kinds of games does she like?" Maybe she could find this Clarissa. There were things in the court no one else knew. Things that Mary could use to get more respect in the eyes of the King.

"She likes games with marbles." Charles shrugged and glanced down at his feet. "I'm not sure. She doesn't like me very much. But she does like Nostradamus."

Nostradamus. The Queen's prophet. It made sense. He was in the favor of the queen, but he had been brought in as a servant. He came from a life of peasantry. Of course he would know the girl the young prince spoke of. "Perhaps I shall pay him a visit later today."

"Be careful, your Highness." Mary turned to find Queen Catherine standing behind her. "Those who venture into the dungeons do not always return the same way. And Nostradamus can do nothing to save you should you be attacked by one of the inmates. One step too close to the jail cells and it is the last step you take."

Mary eyed the Queen carefully. Trust was not a trait that had been bred into Mary as a child. At the convent, her food had been tasted before every meal, her friends carefully monitored. She had been in constant danger of being assassinated, and trust did not go hand in hand with that. And the Queen did not strike her as someone who would be honest and open in her life. If something were to challenge her or pose a threat to someone she loved, Mary would not put it past Queen Catherine to tell every lie she could devise and every manipulation she could craft to ensure that threat did not come to pass.

The Queen could merely have been trying to frighten her. Or she could have spoken the truth about the dangers of visiting Nostradamus. It was a simple matter of Mary deciding what she needed more, her ultimate safety or to speak with Clarissa and gain knowledge on the secrets of the court. Anything she could get to use as leverage in court to help Scotland.

When she thought about it in those terms, the decision was simple and clear. She must visit Nostradamus later that night. She must begin her hunt for Clarissa. Because if King Henry would not help her country and her engagement to Francis continued to rest at a standstill, she must find something to gain respect, if nothing more. And with any luck, she'd be able to find something interesting and secret enough to compel the King to aid her needy country.

* * *

Lady Greer was in no mood for the court festivities of the night. She had been in France barely three days and already she was terribly homesick, missing the wild green fields and rocky gray cliffs of Scotland. She was only here to keep Mary company and to make her family proud. If she could find a wealthy, respectable Frenchmen, her parents could die happy and her sisters could live the rest of their lives without worrying about their futures and the future of their families. Life would be easier. And so for them, she would remain.

Greer glanced around the hall, taking in the sight of Mary standing cooly next to Francis, the two not touching or interacting. Kenna by the side of the dance floor, carefully scanning the crowd for something interesting. Kenna was always looking for a party. Aylee stood in the corner with a few of the Englishmen at court. They may not have been on the best terms with France or Scotland, but the few who were at court were generally there because they did not wish to remain in England. They were harmless. Lola stood not far from Mary, next to Bash. They seemed to be getting along rather well. Their senses of humor suited each other.

But Greer did not wish to join in like her friends. She glanced around the hall one more time and headed out to the corridor, blindly turning through the halls, not entirely sure where she was headed. Soon, she found herself in the kitchens, pulling a bottle of wine and grapes out from the shelves. She could have her own festivities right here in the kitchens. All alone.

"Oh, pardon me." The male voice made her look up. A man stood there, probably around her age. He had light sandy hair, a high straight nose, full lips, and a dusting of freckles beneath his cool blue eyes. He was fairly attractive.

She had clearly had a little too much wine. Carefully setting the bottle aside, Greer looked up at him. "Who are you?"

"I'm Leith," he said, smirking as he stepped closer. His gait was loose and clearly not the cultured walk of a gentleman of the court. He was not the man her parents wished for her to marry. But he was so… tempting. "I work here in the kitchens. That wine? I made it. I picked those grapes. You're eating my dinner."

Greer raised her eyebrows. "You would take dinner from a lady?"

"Well, it was never the lady's dinner to begin with. I am not taking anything from a lady if it was not hers in the first place." He stepped closer, an eyebrow raised to match hers.

"I do believe the dinner was mine. I took it from the shelves." She noticed how tall he was when he stood in front of her at the table. She was not a short lady, but he stood nearly a head over the top of hers. For some reason she could not fathom, she found that extremely attractive.

"Ah, yes, my shelves." HIs smile lifted both corners of his mouth. It was a beautiful smile. "I'm very sorry, miss, but I must take that dinner back from you." His face so close to hers kept her mouth shut. "Well," he said softly. She could feel the soft, warm puffs of his breath on her cheeks as he spoke, looking down into her eyes. "Maybe I can share with you. Just because you've already eaten some, you see. I would not make this exception any other time."

"I suppose I should thank you," she said, finding her voice. "But I suspect you do not offer this shared dinner as a peace offering, but rather as an incentive to argue further. I think you know I will not share this dinner."

He feigned looking offended. "Lady, you wound me. Why would I incense you to continue this bickering?"

"Because you enjoy being an antagonistic ass." Greer smirked and took a small step towards him, her thighs beneath her dress brushing against his.

"Aye, lady, I do enjoy this." Leith smiled his head lowering towards hers. The movement was slow, and it may have been the wine, but she was so tempted to allow his soft lips to touch hers. But she stepped back, a pleasant smile took its place on her face.

"I'm sorry, but I must go." She began to turn to leave, but turned back at the door. She found him with the corner of his mouth tipped up, but his face somewhat forlorn. "No one can know I was here." With that, she exited the kitchens.

* * *

"Are you entertained, Bash?" Lady lola smiled up at the man beside her. "These festivities celebrate your sister."

"Half-sister, Lola, you forget." The tone of Bash's voice indicated he was not enjoying himself. "I am not the royalty celebrated here tonight."

"The King's blood flows through your veins." She shook her head. "You have more royalty than I do."

"Ah, yes, but I also have my mother's blood in my veins." He said this with a bitterness. There was so much bitterness inside him for his heritage. She wanted to make it alright again.

"Bash, come with me." She took his hand, leading him away from the revelries of the court.

"Lady, where are you taking me?" The was more humor in his tone now, but the notes of sadnesses were still present. "You do not plan on executing me, do you? I believe Mary might object to that."

A tiny laugh bubbled up from Lola's chest. "No, sir, I would not dream of it. Just follow quick." Bash did not answer, but followed the woman with a lopsided smile on his face. He did enjoy her company. She kept him on his toes. He could see them becoming good friends in the future. Possibly even close enough to confide his family's terrible secret in.

A breeze hit his face, and he glanced around, finding them in a courtyard. In the middle of summer as it was, the bushes were lush and green, overgrown with flowers and well-groomed into clean shapes. "Lola, I've seen this courtyard many times. I've lived in this court for nearly twenty years. This is nothing new."

"Well," she said, smiling as she knelt down on the grass. "Have you ever laid back and looked at the stars from this courtyard. I hear they're quite beautiful this time of year. Come, sit, take a look." Bash eyed her curiously, but did as she said, taking a seat next to her and laying back. The sky spread out like velvet around them, nestling the stars in like diamonds in a case.

"I have also seen the stars before, my lady," he said mischievously. Lola annoyed was an entertaining sight. Her face flushed and she sputtered and it reminded him of a child. She was… cute. "Is there anything new you would like to show me?"

"Sir, you enjoy provoking me, don't you?"

"I might." He turned his head toward her, smirking. He gently brushed a dark curl behind her ear as it fell over her face. "You are a beauty when you are provoked." He smiled softly. "You are always a beauty. But your temper entertains me."

She shook her head and gently pushed at him arm. "Watch the stars, sir. If I want you to speak, I will ask." She turned her head to look up at the sky again. His smile took on an element of awe and he watched her profile. No one had ever told him to remain quiet before. She was… different. He liked it.

* * *

Lady Kenna continued to look around the room. Two of her friends had left, finding their own entertainment. But, Kenna, she wanted to be seen. She wanted to meet someone powerful, someone who could help her find the power she wanted to badly. So far, no such opportunity had presented itself.

"Lady, are you one of those traveling here with Queen Mary?" The voice startled her out of her perusal of the room. She turned, startled to see King Henry standing behind her, looking directly into her brown eyes.

She gave a small curtsey and stood to look in his direction. "Yes, your Highness. I am Lady Kenna."

A surprisingly gentle hand tilted her chin up. "Please, lady, look at me. Be not ashamed of your station. Be not ashamed of anything." Her eyes looked up into his. He smiled. "My, my, you are quite beautiful."

Kenna could feel a rush of heat staining her cheeks. She could not believe she was blushing in front of the King of France. "Thank you, your Highness."

"Henry," he corrected quickly. "Or sir, if you feel so inclined to call me by a title. But I always prefer Henry. Especially by a lady. And a lady as beautiful as you are, no less."

"Sir, please," Kenna smiled and turned away from him. "I must leave you. I am sure you have court business to attend to and people to talk to. I am pleased to meet you, your Grace."

She moved away, shifting through the crowd and not stopping until she was at the opposite end of the room from him. He watched her as she moved. She was interesting. She had some fire underneath her polite demeanor. There was something about the way she held herself that captivated him. He planned to see more of her. More of Lady Kenna.

* * *

Sir Simon Westbrook. He was the man standing at Lady Aylee's side. An Englishman no less. Her life in Scotland had trained her to hate the English, but this man was nothing like the soldiers and royalty in the English court she had met. He was… interesting, funny, and kind. He did not like the Scottish, but few English did. Aylee could not blame him for his societal bias.

"Lady Aylee, you may be the only Scot I could share a drink with." He proclaimed this, lifting the mug of beer in his hand. He may have been at court, but he was English, and the English liked their beer.

She was not sure how to reply to this. As a lady of the court, she was not expected to share a drink, much less beer, with a man, but she did not see how she could refuse him his offer.

"Yes, sir, sometime." She watched him take a swig from his mug. The Englishmen were so… informal. She had heard tales of Henry and his wives, of the adventures in the English castle. But she had not believed much of it until she had met Simon earlier that night. He was the embodiment of all of the stories she'd heard.

"Lady, why do you agree so quickly?" He gestured to the full glass of wine in her hands. "You have not drank a drop of the drink here, so why share a drink with me?"

"In truth, sir, I did not think I could refuse." She ducked her head. It was not her nature to argue, but she was not compliant either.

"You have a mind of your own, Aylee. You may agree and disagree as you please. Do not assume I will be upset. Very little you could say would upset me."

"Very well, sir." Aylee lifted her gaze to look him in the eyes. "I will not drink with you, not because you are English, but because I do not drink alcohol of any kind." She placed the glass in her hands on the table nearest them. "I am sorry, sir."

"Stop calling me sir," he said, smiling to offset his harsh words. "I call you Aylee, you may call me Simon. We are equals."

Her head snapped up. She had never met anyone with that viewpoint before. She had come to France, not entirely because of Mary, but also because of the change. She wanted some kind of adventure, something different from her quaint life in Scotland. Simon was most definitely a change. "Are we?"

"Why should we not be? We are of the same rank, we are of the same personality. And I believe we may have the same interests." She glanced over to see him staring intently at her. "At least, I am interested in you," he murmured, so quiet even she could not hear.

"Not many people believe men and women are of the same rank. I was merely surprised."

"Obviously I am not like that." He placed his mug on the table next to her glass of wine and turned to her. "Come, lady, let's dance."

"Oh, no, there is no one on the floor! We cannot dance alone." Becoming the center of attention was not her idea of a good time.

"Very well, if you will not dance," he said, taking her hand and leading her away. "We may go for a walk."

"Why do you wish to walk with me?" Aylee followed behind, letting him hold her hand and pull her along behind him.

"I enjoy your company, Lady Aylee. You are not only the only Scot I would have a drink with, you are the only person in this court I would have a drink with. I see us becoming quite good friends."

She was almost frightened by the look in his eyes, the intense focus they seemed to apply to her. "Maybe, sir." He sent her a warning glare. They had walked for a few minutes at that point, and Aylee was becoming increasingly hesitant in her answers. Simon was not the person she had believed he was, and he might have been an adventure and a challenge, but she was not sure she was ready to become his friend. "I must go now. It is getting late. Good night… Simon."


End file.
